


Tea & Infirmity

by Viridian5



Series: Tea for Three [3]
Category: due South
Genre: Caretaking, Crack Fic, Humor, M/M, Sick Character, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-04-07
Updated: 2002-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ray gets sick, Fraser and Turnbull try to better his condition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea & Infirmity

**Author's Note:**

> Written because Kasha asked for it. She also did the read-through.
> 
> I had an idea for sick and achy Ray, then _I_ became sick and achy. I am too Method for my own good.

I could almost smell the chicken soup. Almost. It registered as a kind of rich, steamy thing under the stench of snot. I hated getting so congested that I could smell the gunk in my head. Nasty.

Yesterday I just had a slight sore throat, but this morning I woke up feeling like the Sahara had baked the inside of my head, sucking all the moisture out. By lunch my throat just about rippled with raw, hot pain, my whole head felt heavy and seemed to burn, and my nose ran faster than a contestant in the Kentucky Derby. I couldn't breathe through the thick gunk dripping down the back of my throat, I just wanted to sleep, and I ached all over.

As I brought the next spoonful of soup up, I felt a sudden burning pain on my other hand. A frigging scalding piece of _carrot_ had landed on my knuckles. I shook my hand hard to get it off and growled at the red, burning skin beneath it. Carrots were getting the better of me now. Not even whole carrots, just a little, teeny, tiny piece of carrot. Damn, I was pathetic.

As I ran my hand under cold water in the break room's sink, I said, "I can't see you guys tonight. I'd be infecting two-thirds of Chicago's Canadian population. And the one-third left would be the only one I'd enjoy infecting." It hurt to talk, and I sounded like it.

Fraser had his "that's just silly, Ray" expression on. "That's just silly, Ray," he said. See? "Turnbull, Inspector Thatcher, and I are far from the only Canadians in Chicago. In any case, Turnbull could as easily pick your malady up from me, since I'm spending time with you."

"Damn."

"In any case, he'd be hurt if you didn't give him the opportunity to help better your condition."

"He some kind of doctor?" I couldn't even imagine.

"I wouldn't say that. However, he does know some home remedies that will ease your suffering."

I blew my poor, chapped nose for, like, the five hundredth time today. I'd used so many of those tissues with the lotion in them that my fingers felt over-moisturized, almost greasy. "Anything that would ease my suffering would be appreciated. Guess it's an 'at home' night, then."

"I should say so."

Funny how much we could say in the 27th, because people saw what they wanted to see. As long as we didn't go into hot and steamy detail or climb each other in public, people figured we just hung out as friends. Then again, who would figure that I'd be going out with straight arrow Fraser, let alone straight arrow Fraser and Turnbull at the same time? A lot of them thought that Turnbull was asexual. They had no idea.

Well, they wouldn't treat my Mounties right anyway.

"Yeah," I said, "let's give Turnbull a call and tell him what's up."

  


* * *

The cold, spitting rain waiting for us outside that evening didn't help me any. Even running to the car and later to my apartment, I got soaked through and felt like a drowned rat. Even Fraser looked messed up.

Turnbull waited for us outside the door to my apartment. With his blue-black coat, hat, and umbrella and the carpetbag in his hand, he looked kind of like the male linebacker version of Mary Poppins. He also looked close to dry, which suggested that he'd been here a while.

I coughed, then asked, "Why didn't you just let yourself in?" He had a set of keys.

"It didn't seem polite. Good evening, Ray, Benton."

"Good evening, Renfield."

"No Dief?" I asked.

"He refused to come out in this weather," Turnbull said, and Fraser muttered something that sounded like "disgrace to his breed."

I let us all in, then slumped against a wall as the Mountie perfect guests put their wet things in the tub and took my wet stuff off me to do the same. Soon enough they had me sitting at the table while Turnbull turned the flame on under the teapot.

"I don't think I'll be good for much, guys," I said, forced to a rough-edged whisper.

"Let us take care of you, Ray," Turnbull said, sounding pleased to be getting the opportunity.

If pampering me made him happy, who was I to stand in the way of his happiness? Then again, who knew what he thought "pampering" involved?

I could be in big trouble here.

Oh, hell, I wasn't in any condition to run at the moment.

Turnbull put a steaming mug in front of me. It smelled so strongly of mint that even I could smell it. "Breathe in the steam, Ray. It's good for you," Turnbull said. "Lean forward over it. Benton will drape a towel over your head to make sure none of it escapes."

"Then you guys get my video camera, do something funny to me while I have a towel over my head, and submit the tape to _America's Funniest_."

"Not at all," Fraser said. "And this will make you feel better."

What did I have to lose? After a day of this and a whole box of tissues, I didn't have any dignity left. Not that I ever had much to begin with. "Fine, fine."

I leaned over the steaming mug under my towel tent and tried to breathe. It did get easier. Nice and warm under here too, with the steam curling gently against my face and into my mouth. Smelled a lot like my favorite gum. My nose started to run again, but one of my guys put a box of tissues in my hand.

"Thanks," I said. "This is better. I don't feel great, but this is better."

Hands ghosted across my shoulders, Turnbull's hesitant touch. His first touches always felt like he thought he had to ask permission all over again. Made me wonder if somebody'd mistreated him in the past. If so, I'd like to find that somebody and set things right. But my whole body hurt so bad that I flinched under Turnbull's hands anyway.

I didn't want him to take it the wrong way. "Sorry. I hurt all over."

I felt more certain hands along my thighs and warm breath on the bare sliver of skin between my sweater and waistband. I went hard immediately. Just because I felt crappy and unsexy didn't mean I didn't still get horny.

"Do you hurt here?" Fraser asked from under the table.

"Uh, not as much."

My zipper coming down sounded loud and sharp to me. Fraser quickly pulled my underwear aside and stoked my cock with his certain, callused hands. I shivered and started to put the towel over my head aside, but Fraser said, "No, Ray. Keep breathing in the steam."

"You want me to just sit here doing nothing but breathing?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Who was I to argue with the man holding my dick? If he didn't want me to work for it, he didn't want me to work for it.

I took in a deep gulp of minty steam when Fraser sucked the tip of my cock into his mouth, his mouth almost as hot as the steam. It sure was wetter. Wanting more of that, my hips moved forward, but I flinched at the feel of Fraser's hands over my ribs. I had the crappy aches along with the happy, "wanna come" aches. Fraser moved his hands away from there to play with my balls instead. That was beyond good. Then he slid his mouth all the way down to the base of my cock, which brought "good" up to a whole new level.

I could very happily take up residence in his mouth, especially when he started doing that thing with suction and his tongue, trying to pull and tease an orgasm out of me. Like right now.

I couldn't see what he was doing, and I had no idea what he would do next. I just had to trust him and feel it all and gasp out my approval. And imagine his cheeks sucking in and his head bobbing....

Okay, maybe you'd think that when a guy had his mouth wrapped around your cock and his fingers on your balls, you were heading to a certain place, but then you didn't know Fraser.

Or Turnbull. "Turnbull, where'd you go?"

"I'm down here."

Sitting on the floor? Watching Fraser suck me? I could just _see_ it....

Seeing it, I came, shaking the towel off as my whole body moved with it. I felt the back of Fraser's throat milking me dry as I shot off. Like I said, I could live here.

Turnbull stood and gave me an intense look as he said, "I love the way you look.... I want to kiss you, but you probably don't want me to," while Fraser licked me clean under the table.

Once I got my brain back, I answered, "I wanna kiss you too, but this whatever I have is not something I wanna share with you."

Turnbull pushed the sugar bowl and a spoon over to me. Sex-stupid as I was, I had no idea what to do with them. "Drink your tea," he said. Love through tea.

I sugared it and drank. It turned out to still be fairly hot, and I liked the way it tasted. It broke through the layer of crap in the back of my throat. Fraser came out from under the table, his lips shiny and wet, his hair lightly mussed, telltale bulge at the front of his jeans. I really wanted to kiss my guys, but no way was that happening.

"I really wanna do something for you," I said.

"Could you take a shower?" Fraser asked.

I didn't think they were really getting what I meant, but then I imagined the three of us in the shower.... but I felt way too wobbly, dammit. "Don't know how long I could stay standing," I had to admit.

I finished my tea because it made Turnbull happy. The tea left a nice warm glow in my stomach and cleared my throat, but I still felt the chills growing in the rest of my body.

They noticed. "You should be in bed, Ray," Turnbull said.

"I'm good. I'm fine." Wow, the stern, "this is for your own good" look really had a wallop when they both did it at once. "Okay, okay." I did feel tired.

I stripped and changed into my 'jammies in front of them--they'd seen it all before and much closer up--then dragged myself into bed. I could tell that they wanted to climb in with me but didn't do it because they knew I hurt too badly for company. Fraser tucked more blankets than I thought I owned around me, while Turnbull set a pan of water on top of the radiator for more steam. I felt loved.

But they were both hard, and I'd left them hanging on, so.... "Could I watch you two?"

I hadn't been too specific, but they got it. "As you wish," Fraser said. Heh. I love that movie.

They stood where they knew I'd have a good look at them once I cleared some of my blankets away a little. The blanket clearing obviously left Fraser feeling torn, but I gave him my own, stern, "I'm not porcelain" look.

They kissed with their mouths open and eyes closed, hungry, their large, pale hands sliding under denim and flannel. They looked hot and into it and into each other, and their eyes glanced at me once in a while, which only seemed to make them hotter. Better than porn. Damn, I wanted to be in the middle of that, but I really didn't have the strength and I didn't want to be Patient Zero in the Great Canadian Consulate Infection. Made it torture to watch, but masochism was a necessary trait for Fraser's partners, so it was sweet torture. Besides, I wanted to be sure my guys got some too.

They quickly opened their flies with Mountie efficiency--even keeping presentation in mind, since they had their flies arranged to perfectly frame their hard, uncut cocks--and started to rub against and stroke each other, kissing and writhing. I breathed in time with them. Even my stuffy nose could smell the sharp tang of sex in the air. Having me watching made Fraser less controlled from the very start, which really did things for me.

If I'd been less beat, I would have come with them. I just couldn't get it up again. Dammit.

"Love you," I murmured as they tucked me back in and I fell asleep.

  


* * *

Sometime later, didn't know when, I woke up and tried to flail my way over to my clock to see the time. "Ray," Fraser said, "I called Lieutenant Welsh to say that you wouldn't be coming in to work today."

"No right to do that," I rasped. "I'll take a shower and be fine." Oh, yeah. All I needed was a forklift to hoist me out of bed first.

"He noticed how ill you were yesterday and said that if you came in, he would only send you home."

"Hmmph."

"We could stay if you need us," Turnbull said.

Aw. "I do need you," I did the world's most pathetic leer, "and it's nice of you to offer, but I'll be okay. Think I'll mostly sleep anyway, and it'd be boring watching me do that. You guys go to work making Chicago safe for Canadians."

"We'll be by later," Fraser said.

"Have fun storming the castle," I said before I sank like a stone back into sleep.

  


* * *

When I finally dragged my sorry ass out of bed, it looked like late afternoon outside. Clock said 3 p.m. Yikes.

I found minty teabags and a kettle on the counter. And a container of chicken soup in the fridge. No carrots in it. I'd smile if my face didn't hurt so much.

Once I fortified myself with reheated, homemade soup o' the chicken--much better than yesterday's store-bought stuff--I wandered past the living room and noticed a video tape on top of the TV that I couldn't remember putting there. "Play me" was written in very neat, rounded handwriting, definitely not mine, on the label. Not Fraser's either.

I popped Turnbull's tape into the VCR and set it up to play. And my jaw dropped, because, yeah, I did look funny sitting at a table with a towel over my head, but the camera's main focus was on Fraser on his knees on my kitchen floor sliding his hands and head into my lap. The camera zoomed in on him....

As I stared at the screen and pushed down my sweatpants and took myself in hand, I figured that _America's Funniest_ wouldn't want a piece of this even if I did feel like giving it up. Which I sure as hell didn't.

 

### End


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